I am the echo I try to outrun,
A shadow that clings to the face of the sun.
Each smile I wear is a borrowed disguise,
A mask to survive in a world built on lies.

I loathe the silence that grows in my chest,
The way I pretend that I’m doing my best.
There’s venom in thoughts I dare not confess
A whisper that says I am nothing, no less.

My hands betray me, they tremble with guilt,
Like architects shamed by the ruins they built.
I tear at the seams of the person I feign,
And stitch myself back with thread made of pain.

No voice ever told me I wasn’t enough,
But mine,soft and cruel,was more than enough.
It carves its initials deep into my skin,
Repeating the cycle I never begin.

I don’t want your pity, I don’t want your grace,
Just leave me to drown in my desolate place.
A cage of my making, each bar forged from fear
I hate what I see when the mirror is near.

Yet still, in the night, something fragile survives,
A flicker, a breath, where despair never thrives.
But I do not chase it,I know how this ends:
In battles with monsters I swore were my friends.